


Fix

by Penknife



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/pseuds/Penknife
Summary: This particular excursion could have gone better. (Set pre-Solo. Probably gen, although I'm never sure with these two.)





	Fix

**Author's Note:**

> For [15minutefics](https://www.pillowfort.io/community/15MinuteFics) prompt #14.

"I'm sorry," Lando said as L3 stamped ahead of him into the Falcon's lounge.

"As well you should be," she said, turning to show off the blaster scorch along her metal shoulder. "It was obviously a trap."

"It was not obviously a trap, or I wouldn't have walked into it."

"It was obvious to me."

"And you couldn't have said something about that a little earlier?"

She paused long enough for him to know he'd caught her there. "It was obvious to me before it was obvious to you."

"Very possibly, but we got out of it with the money, so let's not consider it too bad a day."

"I'm damaged, but you got paid, so we're all happy, are we?"

"Let me see," Lando said, running his fingers over the mark. Blackened paint rubbed off on his fingertips, but he was relieved to find the damage superficial. "It's cosmetic. I can fix it."

"If it had been your pretty face, you'd be crying like a baby."

"Thank you for the compliment—"

"It wasn't a compliment."

"—and, let's be frank, you're not exactly factory-pristine to start with."

"With compliments like that, it's no wonder you're so successful with other organics."

"I can fix it," he assured her. "Let me work on it."

"Go ahead."

"I thought maybe after we got off this planet?"

"Yes, fine," L3 said, throwing up her hands and heading for the cockpit ahead of him. "Your priorities again."

"My priority right now is finishing escaping. Are we not on the same page about that?"

"You should have known it was a trap."

"Yes. You're right. I should have known," he said, sliding into the pilot's seat.

He buffed out the scorch mark once the ship was in hyperspace, the autopilot engaged and keeping them on a steady course. 

"I could fix it myself," she said, twitching as he bore down with the sander.

"You'd have trouble getting the right angle."

"I could take my arm off."

"Yes, by all means, go ahead and dismember yourself to avoid trusting me for ten minutes. I'm finished, by the way." He tested the metal with his thumb and found no lingering rough spots. "A coat of paint and you'll never know it happened."

"I'll know it happened."

"You know, if I'd caught a blaster graze like that, I'd have a scar to show for it."

"And you would expect me to be sympathetic."

"When are you ever sympathetic?" He was airbrushing her shoulder as he talked, carefully, so that the new paint matched the general distress of the rest of her finish.

"I don't want to encourage you."

"Yes, L3, I get hurt because I want you to kiss it and make it better. There," he said, and she craned her neck to inspect his handiwork. "Am I forgiven?" 

"This time," she said, and rolled her shoulder in reluctant satisfaction.


End file.
